


Lust For Life

by thecouloir



Series: Lust For Life [1]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Lana Del Rey (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecouloir/pseuds/thecouloir
Summary: The first installment, a recollection of Harry's love life - occurring from 1950 into the late 1970s. This has been discontinued !!





	Lust For Life

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by Lana Del Rey’s newest album and the piece was brought on by the single Love. I anticipate several parts to this story. Typically I veer from the genre of romantic comedies. But when inspo strikes - we can’t always be picky ones. Anyway, I don’t have any trigger warnings at this point. I think we are safe. My apologies if there are any triggers and I don’t mind anyone letting me know. This piece has bee slowly in the works and I will admit I am fairly proud of what I’ve written for once. Please be a bit light on the critique ((kidding, be brutal )). Enough ramble…

  


  


  
If you'd of told me five or so years ago that i'd be at a Rolling Stones show - blitz out of my mind on a tab given to me by a stranger, then I'd probably tell you to take your rubbish filled mind elsewhere. Little did I know that in just a matter of a year, the outlook on life would change. My entirety of a being would transform due to the woman who currently stood a few feet away from me. Soul bare as her chest. Again, the man long ago would be unable to imagine letting his girl fly free without a blouse in their own home, let alone a field full of people. But we were at that phase you know. Or we reached it. The trust, the state of security, all that we had hoped for. I am hers and she is mine. Watching  tendrils of lengthy curls bounce across her bare back - nearly mirroring the lion's mane a top my noggin - was just as satisfying for me as it was for her. But you know, it wasn't always this way. Like I said, we were two lost souls in an age we didn't belong.

  
It all started round the time my parents drug me to the states. There is no exaggeration on the word drug. My father was a strict man will little patience. The whine for a stay in England only annoyed to the point of a swift smack to my bottom and a yank at my earlobe. Sometimes I thank him for the early preparation of the draft that came years later but we will get to that bit of the story... in time.  
  


My mother sat beside me with that same lifeless look. Now I think that inside, she must have screamed curses at my father for the way he treated me. Us. But in those times a woman had little or no say - especially a seemingly polite English one. So here we are. My silent and obeying mother without courage to console me and a father in lecture about how a British gentlemen should behave.   
_  
_

_" If you're going to be a Styles. You must hold yourself to higher standards, Harry."_

__  
Right. With **high sarcasm** I say this because only a few months later we found that the prime reason for the big move; an American woman that caught more than his eye. Some gentlemen he was.    
That was the worst. The divorce and watching my mother torn apart by it all. Thrown back to London without me. Of course, by then I was trained to be emotionless. While a son was said to belong with his mother - the old gentlemen felt his new and improved housewife would better suit parenting. Also - there was an affinity to be that classic american family. So you see, from a young age I was destined - **no, brainwashed** \- to be the man I always hated. 

  
I was adopted by his wife Carol and to this day I never refer to the woman as a mother. Part of me knows that she may have not been the blame and for all I knew my father probably used the ol' British charm to convince her he was a single father. 

  
But this isn't about my father's love life or anyone else's for that matter so let us recap and forward;  
I'm in my teens and officially an American. I work part time at my father's factory and the weekends are spent behind the counter at a neighbourhood diner. Free time goes to my studies. My accent isn't as harsh at this time but I remember being mocked on a constant in elementary so I'm certain that most brit slang and pronunciation was hidden or washed away. Still, there are the occasions where a paper was returned and in large red ink  

  
**" WE USE PROPER SPELLING IN OUR COUNTRY!!!! "**

**  
** Rather daft of them if you ask me. Ironic even. Anyway, who am I to educate. Swimming along, that night. That faithful night as they say. She was there but I'd been too busy wiping stools with an old rag that smelled of Clorox to notice. There were times I'd curse myself for being a 'workaholic' but now I have no regret because in the end I did get the girl. Not just any girl. 

  
Elizabeth Woolridge Grant. I'd only heard about her then, another reason for the probable nonrecognition. Lizzy, she was called by friends, Beth by her parents, and to the college lads or the professors that made passes - was Liz. Today she would admit that she dug Liz so much was because it made her sound a bit more of an adult. That was all my future bird wanted. To be a woman. A woman that 'everyone wanted, belonged to everyone and no one all at once' her words. No surprise that those green eyes hadn't went my way at the time either. I was a freshmen to her senior. Even if I'd been in my last year of high school - Lizzy Grant wouldn't want to even bat a lash. Hunger for the men with beards. I didn't even sprout a knick of chest hair. My face was smooth like a child's bum. Bad comparison. Glad the late puberty came along. Still unable to grow a full beard but my facial hair problems or lack there of have little importance in such a love story. 

  
Anyway, tonight the man that pined after the girl of my dreams was some american football lad. Rubbish at it. I know from experience. You can trust and if you don't believe my words now perhaps when we get to the bit where i’m sprawled cross a lawn with knees and bows cherried in victory. So the lad has his arm slickly round her and going on about some scouts that are supposed to pick him up. But Lizzy's mind is on a million other things. Her parents. How much of an annoyance they can be. How she's going to ace that test because all the ' after school tutoring'. Those were the stories I heard and the Elizabeth I knew of. No idea of magic she held. How she often snuck out of her room. Not for some mindless go around with a dickhead. But to sit upon the roof and gaze at stars. Wishing she were one. Undivided.

  
We did it once. That's when I met her. Not Lizzy, Liz, Beth, or even Elizabeth. The night I spent on the rooftop of her tiny flat - she became Lana. 

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧  


  
_"If i fall to my death - you won't be able to collect on my insurance policy."_

_  
"No, silly. Means I will. It'd be an accident. Or will the town gossip be that you were pushed by that Sleezy Grant witch of a woman?"_

_The east coast accent dips two and fro and the now dark haired beauty steps across the window sill. Her bare feet ignoring the rough of the shingles. I look down at the perfectly painted toenails. Bright red. Matching her lips. Wonder  how long it took. For her - probably only a few seconds. By now I have thoughts that she simply wakes up this way. Dolled. Following in her footsteps but with a nice loafer - I make it across without a slip of the heel and thank god under my breath. Now I can process the conversation we've just had._

_"No, I mean - I don't have any insurance policy. So as a widow, you'd receive nothing Mrs.Grant._ _"_

_I continue the punchline of this terrible joke, ignoring the fact that I'm at least ten feet away from my death. There's no joke about it. But in her eyes I wanted to appear fearless and comical._

_"Find it funny we have this whole. Facade of a marriage. But yanno, you call Ms.Grant, Mister Styles."_

_She shows that infectious smile and i'm a jumble of nerves. "You're right." That's all I'm able to muster out and suddenly I'm a schoolboy all over again. Can't even handle flirting with a woman I fancy in my twenties. Christ._

_"Well ar ya just gonna stand there or are you a fraidy puss?"_

_She's already sitting near the edge, legs swept at her side though knowing I'm not like the others. I won't sneak a disrespectful look or vulgar remarks. Maybe she fears I'd make one of my snark comments about how a woman should behave. Sit properly as to veer from a males arousal. But I can handle it. I'm not like the others. Never would I be. Or at least think of myself that way._

_"Well are ya?" She repeats and I shake my head with response to her teasing then remember that this woman fears nothing._

_"Not afraid. Just a bit dizzy. 'sall."_

_I take spot beside her. Not too close. But enough to feel the heat radiating from her arm. Only for a moment because seconds later, she's laid down - eyes up at the sky._

_"You think I'll be one someday, Harry?"_

_\- "Wot?" Some reason my accent grows harsh when my nerves blow or confusion._

_She laughs and I have no idea if it's because of that or the look of bewilderment on my face._

_"A star. You goof."_

_The giggle seeps and for a split second - she's remnant of the blonde in the diner, even if I never saw her. "What?" She takes notice, her eyes only tearing away from the night for a few before returning._

_"I don't mean literally ya dope. If that's what you're thinking."_

_My brows must have furrowed, signaling a jab at my sense of humor and a bit of my intelligence or even personality._

_"Damn it Harry, why's everything straight with you? Symbolism, metaphors, feelings. Things aren't just black and white. Goddamn conformity."_

_She seems so annoyed with me. Wonder if maybe this would be the end of the Elizabeth Grant venture. Ruined it, you bastard, I thought. Better make up for it. Think. No, thinking is what got you into this. Say something. Anything._

_"Swallows."_

_Her brow cocks with curiosity. "There was a nest of swallows in that tree a few away, just the other day._

_" Praying to the guy above, that things wouldn't get heavy in a way that ruined not only a chance with her ( that I know I'd never have ) but our friendship. ( **dramatic wasn't I? Christ** ) _

_"Never pegged ya for a bird watching type of guy. Knew you were tight wound, but geez. Whatta bore."_

_Alright, now she had to be joking. Back to the playful banter. The smirk gave it away._

_"We can't all be wicked witches, some of us have to be the guys holding a pair of binoculars. Peeping on a bunch of tweeting birds for enjoyment. Otherwise your life wouldn't seem so exciting._

_" I give her a soft nudge. Wow, what an awkward lad I am. Schoolboy returns._

_"Ah, birds is what you call women over the pond isn't it?"_

_Points to Ms.Grant, always winning at banter. My face ripens like a tomato and I welcome the subject change paired with a gentle tug at my arm._

_"Come on peeper, look up."_

_My back rests surprisingly well against a shingle. Would've thought the shingle to be a terrible pillow because my arse grew sore after just the few minutes we sat. Small sacrifice for the first eye opening experience on the Elizabeth tour._

_"Alright, a star. You wish to be. How about that one?"_

_I settle myself comfortably and again, the heat from her arm radiates. I use my other arm to point at the brightest._

_"Why that one?" I notice the way her eye's glow because looking at Elizabeth is a far better sight than the world above, if I'm honest. Wish I could tell her._

_"Well." I clear my throat._

_"Reckon it's the brightest. Who wouldn't want to be the brightest?"_

_I can tell there was some disappointment with my response as she sighs. But then I feel her body scoot closer to mine and before I can process the moment, Elizabeth's head is resting at my shoulder and for some reason I feel more than the schoolboy. She made the move and now it's your turn, mate._

_" I mean, it's not about what you want to be, it's who you are. And to me. You're already that star. You light up my sky. Not just mine. But the world. The sun. You are the sun. The star."_

_'M babbling. While I know entirely where my heart is. I have no idea what I'm on about. But before I can backtrack, my hand seems to have a mind of it's own. My fingers dance along Elizabeth's arm, time seems to drag and speed all at once. Now my thumb grazes beneath her chin, lifting her face with a gentleness that I never knew I had. Our eyes meet and there's a burning desire. Burning the way she does. The sun. Her lashes flicker and that's when I notice their falseness. Never could understand why she wore those things. Never seen her without them glued to her lids. But the glow in her eyes distract from wandering thoughts and soon our lips greeted each other. I feel the tips of the lashes kiss my cheeks. False or not, I welcome them as well. I forgot that we were a roll away from death. The fact that everyone in town had gossip about Elizabeth and I. How wrong it was for a woman her age being in my circle. How a gentlemen like myself shouldn't get roped up with Sleezy Grant. People could be terrible. So cruel. Sure, I was wound but if Elizabeth taught me anything now, it's how different I could be from the conformity she battled against and I was exactly where she wanted me. Feeling the way her presence in my life effects my own being. My other half. This woman before me. She was the part of my soul. The part that wanted to break free. The light to show me who I was. The guy unafraid of heights, the one who kisses the one he fancies, the one who speaks his mind, even if it sounds daft or not exactly masculine. The dance of our lips broke and that's when it came to me. As I held her frame and felt we were an undivided constellation. She is what grounds me. My rock. My little rock._

_"Eli-Lana, I love you." There was a slight pull away in response. Should've kept your mouth shut._

_"Wh-"_

_My confidence does not fret, for some reason I know exactly what to say to clear the air._

_"It means little rock. You're my rock, Lana." Her brows relax and a reward of another kiss. Quick, but just as sweet._

_"You're more poetic than I thought, Styles."_

_A mumble interrupts. All I can think is: **I've just had the best night of my life.**_


End file.
